He looked at her, his eyes holding a strange calm, then slowly shrugged. With a soft grunt, he leaned back, propping himself up on the edge of the bed.
"You know," he began, voice low and almost casual, "sometimes when you help someone too much, they start expecting more... and more."
His gaze shifted toward the wall—the one that separated them from the other beastmen's house. He raised a lazy finger and pointed.
"Those people," he said with a faint smirk, "they're like abandoned puppies. Toss them a little care, a little affection, and they'll cling to you like you're their whole damn world. They'll protect you, adore you, maybe even worship you."
Then his voice dropped, sharp and soft.
"But they won't let you go."
Kaya blinked.
He went on, a shadow flickering behind his tone.
